Scuffed Pearls and Withered Roses
by Reiku Toukijin
Summary: Assumption is nine tenths of obsession. A collection of vignettes featuring Izayoi and Inupapa. Sesshoumaru can come too.
1. Of Things Said and Undone

The sky is translucent, almost cerulean, and dotted with pure white clouds. It is spring, almost summer, and the sun is warm, but the wind is still cool. In the Western Hold, with its tall walls and lavish gardens Izayoi plays attentive wife with the zeal of a jealous paramour.

She oversees the servants and the household monies with quiet efficiency. The servants honor her, if only in pretense, leaving her ample time to attend her husband. This is, when he was home to be attended.

Today is such a day for the Inu no Taishou, tired, but in good humor, has returned from his campaigns in the East. Izayoi is not foolish enough to believe he is happy to be home.

Plucking an idle tune on her koto, she watches as he tends his first wife's roses. He snips curling leaves and prunes away dying blooms.

Snip, prune, snip, and the roses are perfect and beautiful. Just like Her. Them. But then, all inu daiyoukai were perfect. They are all so beautiful.

She watches as he climbs down on his hands and knees to weed. He uproots intrusive plants and casts them away without a second glance.

Uproot, cast, uproot, and Izayoi wonders if there had always been just two rose bushes.

"Will Amayami-sama come again?" she asks, trying not cringe as Inu-no-taishou shreds a limp daisy between his claws.

"The end of the week," he answers, climbing to his feet. He smiles, a dazzling smile, and pecks her cheek with cool dry lips. "Sesshoumaru will be happy to see his mother."

__

And you? she wants to ask, but the sudden warmth in his eyes is answer enough. Instead, she allows herself to be soothed and bites back thoughts she knows better than to voice.

"There is trouble in the East," he says, eyebrows knitting together as they do when he's upset. "Near the border of Amayami's territory." He meets her eyes, trying to smile and failing. "It's Ryuukossei."

Ryuukossei is a terrible creature with a body of iron and no sense of mercy. A guilty shred of relief creeps into her breast. "It'll work itself out," she says mildly, pleased that she sounds so calm. "It always does."

Inu no Taishou breathes, nostrils flaring. "If he refuses to back down. I may need to-"

__

-protect her. she finishes in thought. "I love you," Izayoi says, without thinking, only feeling. It is then she listens rather than hears.

He pauses. Just for a moment, quicker than the space between heartbeats, a silence so very small it escaped her for years.

"And I you," he says. His fingertips touch hers and she smiles at him as if she truly believes.

Smiling, she takes his hand. _Can belief makes things real_, she wonders not for the first time. _If I pretend he loves me, will he?_

Izayoi wants to believe, just as she wants him to love her. She wants more than their vows and a promise of loyalty.

He will never leave her, and although his heart might wander, he will betray her in body.

Izayoi wants to believe it's enough.


	2. Through the Looking Glass Darkly

Once upon a not so distant time, Izayoi never doubted the Inu no Taishou's devotion.

Then he came to her bearing flowers and sweetcakes, but eventually that time withered and grew stale.

Now he comes to her with bloodstains and worried eyes. That is, the rare times he comes at all. So, Izayoi is consigned to watch him from her window.

He walks the battlements in stately grace. His legs are long and his steps are quick, but he limping from injury that has not quite healed. His silver hair waves behind him like a banner and there are bandages beneath his clothes.

Four days ago he came home, pale and almost dying. _She feared he was going to die._

"I love him," she whispers, the feeling sharp and true within her breast. "I really love him."

"I should hope so."

Izayoi feels her blood grow cold as bile churns and bubbles in belly. Hairs prickle up and down her spine.

Get out of my house, and stay out! she wants to snarl, but there are rules to abide and decorum to uphold.

Instead, she turns and bows, her long black hair sweeping forward. "Amayami-sama."

The daiyoukai woman, her petal-pink lips turning in a half-smile. "Hello, Izayoi."

Her voice is so soft and light that it sounds like mocking. Izayoi knows she is mistaken. For Amayami-sama would never lower herself to perturbation over something as trivial as her former husband's current wife.

Izayoi watches, wondering if she should kneel or perhaps flee, as Amayami glides towards her. Instead she watches, half-entranced, as Amayami turns to peer out the window.

"He is so stubborn," Amayami murmurs, tapping her chin. "I distinctly remember telling him to stay in bed."

Izayoi curls her hands, dull fingernails biting into her palms. At that moment, she is so desperate and angry she can barely breathe. _He's going to die protecting you, you selfish bitch. _

"He's restless," she answers, defensive, and pleased her voice sounds so normal. _He's restless and you're taking my place without even trying._

"Yes, he is," Amayami sighs, shaking her head in annoyance. Her white hair flutters off her shoulders, down her back, to swing softly past her hips. She is so beautiful, Izayoi thinks, knowing is an illusion. A lie.

Beneath her moon-pale flesh lurks a monster with glowing eyes and fangs that can snap bone. Amayami is a terrible beast in the form a beautiful, great white dog. Sometimes, Izayoi can almost hear her snarl.

"Are you going to stay cooped up in here all day?" Amayami asks after a moment.

The question seems so concerned that it surprise Izayoi, but before she can answer there is a knock on the door, light and rapping. "Mother?"

Izayoi stares hopefully at the door and imagines eyes filled with depthless apathy. She is not so bold or foolish to believe Sesshoumaru is addressing her.

She hates Amayami then. Loathes how easily she can slip back into the role of honored mother and lady without a solitary effort. Inu no Taishou loved her first, loves her most, and Izayoi is forced to play second fiddle with a broken lute.

"What is it, Dearest?" Amayami calls. Her tone is serene, untroubled, and to Izayoi that is the greatest insult of all.

Sesshoumaru shifts on his feet before answering. "Father is looking for you."

Both women pause in unison, waiting in silence, each for a different reason. Izayoi waits for a message, some tiding that her husband has not truly forgotten her.

Izayoi, Father said to tell you…

Amayami waits for the slight tremor of vague annoyance wrapped around a question.

Why do I have to stay in the castle with the human while you and father go to fight?

Neither comes, only the sound of soft retreating footsteps. Sometimes, Sesshoumaru is far wiser than his youth would suggest.

"Are you coming, Izayoi?"

Izayoi turns away, saying nothing, and is thankful when Amayami departs soon after.

She returns to her listless window gazing, standing in the waning sunlight, hour after hour. Noon turns dusk turns night and Izayoi remains unmoving, unspeaking even as the servants bring in her evening meal.

Later she ignores the chatter of her handmaidens as they conspire and plot against her.

__

The Lord has finally come to his senses, she hears them say.

Izayoi wishes she could care about their petty schemes, but she is too busy watching. Watching and pretending and wishing that the lights burning in the guesthouse have nothing to do with her husband's late night absence.


End file.
